Spontaneity
by Wewritefanfic
Summary: Harry makes a rash decision based on impulse. Events unfold! H/D which is boy et boy.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Abash'd at its own joy, withdrew in deep despair, lest he had done amiss"

Don Juan – Byron – Canto the First

He had run.

He knew that he could have hung around, waited for a response, but wouldn't that have meant being able to face rejection? So in fear he fled.

The resisting body trapped against the wall had part-confirmed his dread and spurred him to imagine the whole situation as hopeless.

Harry left his quarry in the alcove behind the "wall only pretending to be a wall" that had hidden the uncomfortable and embarrassing encounter, an encounter both momentous and catastrophic.

Hurrying up to the Gryffindor common room he drew out his invisibility cloak to hide in case he was being chased, this way he would escape the anticipated retaliatory hex or curse, at least until later. Beneath it his face displayed a mixture of fear and joy, something of course that would have set the many portraits lining the corridors into full on gossip mode.

Right now he felt he needed time to himself, even just a few seconds, to contemplate the situation that had led up to this impromptu flurry of out of character impulses and current, seemingly necessary, escape.

He also had some things he needed to admit to his two best friends though who, no doubt, would be waiting for him worriedly under the guise of homework, as he had hadn't seen them since lunch.

Shirking off the cloak he hurriedly choked out "Nifflers" to the Fat Lady who admitted him with a questioning stare at his, he realised abashedly, distinctly ruffled appearance.

Flopping into an armchair next to Ron he took a few deep breaths and held up his hand to ward off Hermione's immediate attempts to question his harassed appearance.

"Look," he started, knowing that if he didn't say what he was feeling now he might not have the chance (as retaliation might occur as soon as he stepped out of the portrait hole!), "there are things I haven't told you, things you should definitely know and that, Hermione, I'm sure you've probably have guessed at, but really I do need to tell you myself…"

The looks of startled amusement across his two best friend's faces almost stopped Harry from pressing on, but he had started and he had to continue, both of them were waiting so he bit the bullet, so to speak, and continued.

"I have been thinking for a while, and something has just happened that has made me sure, and I don't want to disappoint you, or to freak you out, to disgust you or to make you feel terrible for not knowing earlier or whatever. I had trouble myself coming to terms with what I'm about to tell you but I suppose I have to say it now that -"

"Just say it already, you're making me nervous" Ron interrupted.

Hermione glared at Ron but Harry looked glad that nothing he had said so far had upset them. Confused them of course but there was a thankful lack of hostility.

Re-mustering the courage that had, just ten minutes ago, altered his life in ways beyond imagination, Harry prepared himself for complete honesty with the two people he trusted most in the world.

Stumbling slightly, although he knew that honesty and straightforwardness was his best bet, Harry whispered, "I like men".

He had uttered this secret with his chin to his chest looking intently at his hands clasped in his lap, but then, peering under his fringe at the two people whom he _needed_ to understand, he sat up straighter and took his time to study their reactions.

Hermione was smiling contentedly to herself, a look of "I told you so" just grazing her chocolate eyes.

Ron looked a bit confused but, as Harry continued to study his face, he saw the Knut drop and Ron's eyes widened.

"Men, you say, well, I didn't see that coming, I thought your breakup with Ginny this summer was to do with the fame thing and the fact that during the war you'd both changed. Not that you didn't like girls! But then again… Oh Harry does this mean you're going to go all funny on us and start putting bows on things?"

Ron's rambling reaction was a perfect summary of his acceptance though and Harry sighed back into his chair in anticipation for Hermione's overdue contribution.

Astute as ever, Hermione chipped in with, "Something just happened? Harry what has just happened that made you need to pour your heart out to us like this?"

Squirming under her intense but comforting glare he found himself blushing as he mumbled,

"IjustgrabbedtheboyIlikepushedhimthroughawallkissedhimandranaway"

It flashed through Harry's mind once again.

The walk from the loos down the corridor.

The sight of the infuriating and enticing blonde half way up the stairs.

The hurried walk just to be near him.

The sly grasp on his arm and drag through the wall into one of those hidden alcoves.

The tight hug he had given the startled Slytherin.

The whispered words of an apology.

"I'm sorry, for anything, everything, I'm sorry."

The quick, forced, one-sided kiss that felt so right and yet so wrong.

The realisation that this was not a dream, as it so often was, instead a real, true, dangerous and embarrassing reality.

The hurried escape without the chance for wide green eyes to meet startled grey.

Shit.

Harry's internal monologue was interrupted by Hermione replying.

"Despite that being the most incoherent sentence I have heard since Professor Lockhart's memory charm backfired, I got the gist Harry, please indulge us with the full story?"

Realising suddenly that tonight might not be the night for a total admittance of all his woes, Harry recounted the event with mounting trepidation, consciously evading the use of any names or distinguishing features, especially house. Slightly lost in the memory of an unresponsive tense kiss that could have been so much more, Harry once again failed to notice his immediate surroundings until…

"Erm, Harry," Hermione blushed, "You're, erm," she look pointedly at his crotch, "that."

Harry blanched, if only thinking of his unsatisfying and awkward encounter with _that_ boy could make him, well, aroused, he had a whole lot of problems heading his way.

"Gunna tell us who it is mate?" inquired an exceedingly embarrassed Ron.

Harry shook his head sadly and left swiftly ascending the steps to his dorm and slamming the door behind him.

**Author Note: Gosh, sorry we've not posted in AGES. This is Scribble, writing alone because Slither (being the awesome rower she is) is training nearly daily and when on the computer doesn't have writing time. I'm hoping this story will be a continual and frequent thing over the next few weeks!**

**Any feedback is adored.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

"His arms were like a serpent's coil"

Don Juan – Byron – Canto the Fourth

Merlin. This was a horrible.

Waking from terrifyingly pleasurable dreams was not abnormal. However the stark reality that joined the jolt into awareness of the last night's antics was horrible, and real. Fuck. The terrifying prospect of another onslaught of public humiliation (rivalling his stint as the "Heir of Slytherin" all those years ago) or the rejection that he might face from _him, _well, it was enough dampen his morning problem to nil.

It was more difficult than he expected, ignoring Hermione's slyly worded probing questions and Ron's obvious scanning of every pupil that passed, especially the six and seventh year males. He was looking, of course, for anyone who might appear uncomfortable in Harry's vicinity.

Breakfast was a hurried affair as Harry had taken ages to get ready ("Just because you're gay now doesn't mean you can spend hours preening" Ron had noted irritably) hoping to avoid the Great Hall at its most busy, instead settling for a breakfast where he could ward off conversation with food and hurry quickly to Potions.

In his haste he had forgotten that the one person he needed; craved to see but also to avoid, would be there, in Potions.

Reaching the correct dungeon that fabled blond beauty stared down on the out-of-breath teen. Harry shuddered.

Noting only that the sneer directed at him, from that haughty pointed face, held malice, Harry avoided the eye-contact he yearned to instigate. Of course it did, it was well practiced, rolled out day on day in front of the _unworthy _but right here and right now it was a façade. A façade Harry failed to see through because of his avoidance of Draco's eyes.

However it scared Draco how little he wanted to sneer at Potter and yet he loved how he could pull off his disdain while internally he felt as if he was in a cauldron on all the most squirmy things ever.

_Most squirmy things ever?_ He was losing it. The chance encounter of the night before had left him confused, vulnerable and seething.

Oh he didn't hate Harry, on the contrary, he was beginning to understand that every past conflict had really been just attention seeking and the indiscriminate anger was dissipating, being replaced with a throb in his innards that screamed of need.

He was scared though.

Not only did he have to turn from the frightened glance of the raven wonder but he had to scold himself internally for not making a snide comment to accompany his disguise.

What Draco didn't realise is that Harry was unaware of the possibility that there was a positive tension between them and not a vindictive rift.

Entering the dungeon at Slughorn's command Draco took his seat at the front left of the room with Harry somewhere behind him. He remedied that if he was out of his sight it might help to get him out of his mind.

Then again, last night their half-a-school-away proximity hadn't helped to dispel thoughts and, dare he think it, feelings for the smaller boy.

Harry scooted into the dungeon with Ron and Hermione fervently trying to ignore the images flooding his mind unbidden and strictly untimely, for he wanted no confrontation right now.

A flicker, of what Harry assumed was concern, had flitted through silver eyes while Malfoy had glared at Harry outside the room but as it appeared it was gone into the murky depths. It provided something for Harry to mull over though as the rest of the class settled in around him. Everything had been so quick, he demanded time to think and yet he didn't want to face the hopelessness that fog-like was clouding his senses.

Glad to have something complex to concentrate on (that wasn't based around feelings) Harry asked Ron to get the ingredients and set to preparing the cauldron. It wasn't until their "Confidence Concoction" was being bottled that Harry dared to glance, just once, at the Slytherin he so desired.

With his back turned the haughtiness that Harry admired was evident in every taught muscle of the lissom blonde. Harry knew though that smiling, even slightly, would alert the ever astute Hermione to the object of Harry's fascination, and despite the complete faith he had in his friends he did not want to talk about it with them. Yet.

As the class filed out Draco made his decision.

He was never denied what he wanted, especially now there was no crazy snake faced madman controlling his every move, and right now all he wanted was some time alone with the boy who, from most past experiences should be deemed his antithesis and yet recently, as recently as last night especially, had become an intriguing idea if not the foundations of a fascinating reality.

Harry tried to hurry away, to escape once into the throng of the school, but a swift arm snaked out and took his waist pulling him swiftly out of sight behind a tapestry.

No one noticed his absence immediately and yet Harry didn't seem worried. Although he had been scared of being in front of Draco earlier, right now all he was aware of was the arms that still encircled his waist.

**A/N: Feedback is key. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3.

"Pleasure's a sin and sometimes sin's a pleasure"

Don Juan – Byron – Canto the Second

Harry looked up into misty eyes full of – amusement?

Draco peered down to Harry's startled expression and smirked.

But not his regular, snooty, I'm-better-than-you smirk though. No, instead he showed an open acceptance of the joyful feelings of comfort that filled his torso. His brain had been in turmoil for hours now thinking whether he should ignore what happened but not being able to deny the feeling of _rightness _that pervaded every positive thought he now held of this boy that he, well, now held!

Brushing tousled hair from Harry's face he bent slightly and laid the response he should have given the night before onto the welcoming mouth of The-Boy-Who-Was-Always-Right.

Then, mumbling an apology in likeness to Harry's the previous evening ("I'm sorry, so sorry too") he swiftly hugged the relaxed form in his arms and added despondently, "I've got to go to Arithmancy".

Before he left he gave Harry a bruising kiss that left both of them breathless, lust filling their eyes and a promise hovering tangibly.

"Later?" Harry murmured.

"Later" The retreating form of Draco laughed, a sound so beautiful Harry's knees gave in and he slid to the floor.

**A/N: Sorry this chapter is so short! It just needs to be plotwise and because I don't have time to write today. The next will be longer, I think, to make up for this. Do you think I should make this a big deal "coming out" story for one of our boys? Or both… I'll see where the story takes me.**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4. 

"Indulgence of their innocent desires"

Don Juan – Byron – Canto the Third

It was lunchtime, and finally Hermione joined Harry and Ron at the table and looked intently at Harry's face. Her eyes expressed understanding but it was still mingled with that look of questioning. When Hermione had a new problem, Harry knew, there was no escaping her analytical abilities.

Harry had spent the rest of his previous free finishing a Transfiguration essay with Ron and they had both avoided any conversation that was not school work. It was an amicable silence that was full of the knowledge that later, yes later, they would talk.

With the current presence of Hermione, completing their trio there was no real excuse for Harry to ignore them, he couldn't keep secrets from them, not really, they'd shared so much, been through too much together. He knew too that they would stand by his decisions, even if they were initially inclined to repel, because Harry was Harry and they loved him no matter what he chose.

Also, there was the tiny factor that Hermione couldn't resist, a problem.

Hermione could see something had changed within Harry. He was looking wistful, his fork making patterns in his gravy. His lips looked kiss bruised. She couldn't deny her curiosity as she pondered aloud, "Harry?"

Harry looked her with nervous anticipation; he didn't know how much he dared to reveal if Hermione followed the line of inquiry he was anticipating. He couldn't lie to them, never, but he could be careful and really, it was such a fragile situation that a word in the wrong place now could bring the whole school's ability to distribute scandal crashing into full force.

"I see that things have got better between you and your mystery ma-"

Still staring at his plate Harry cut her short.

"Before you ask, I'm not telling you who"

Undeterred Hermione ploughed on.

"I hope he is good to you Harry and that he doesn't hurt you but if you're being this secretive I'm worried that this might go terribly wrong.

"Please, when you feel you can, confide in us."

Ron nodded his agreement meekly. He knew that Hermione was the tactful one who could understand, or at least try to, the crazy mind of Harry.

"The thing is," Harry admitted, "We haven't had a chance to speak yet, it's all so quick. It isn't like anything I've done before; I've never been so impulsive and never been so scared as to how this will play out. But, so far, everything has been normal, well, as normal as I can expect…

(This was pushing the boundaries of his truthfulness, nothing between Harry and Draco was ever going to be _normal_ again.)

We shared a promise for later, we need to talk but it's looking good, I was scared last night it that my spontaneity was misinformed but it seems it might have been worthwhile.

"Nothing has ever been this risky before and I think tonight, even though I crave more than just a civilised chat, that's all there is going to be."

"Careful mate, I hope you know what you're doing, it sounds risky, do you want Mione or me to come with you?"

Ron suggested out of habit before he realised quite how strange it would make the situation. He sat back from the table and shook his head at his own whimsical offering.

"No," Harry said resolutely, proud of Ron despite his own impulsiveness, "I think it will be ok actually, I'm just going to the owlery to send him a message, I think that's the best option right now."

As Harry journeyed up to the owlery he penned his note mentally.

"D

I think we need to talk above everything else.

The RoR should do, I know you know about it.

8. Tonight.

Yours,

H"

Yes, that ought to do it, polite and interested but drawing a line, he knew he needed to after their previous hormone driven encounters.

He thanked who ever thought of having "school owls" for that decision, yes it helped those who needed to send multiple messages or for kids who didn't have an owl but really it had always been best employed for covert communication within the castle.

It was half seven before a reply found him, a charmed piece of parchment folded into an origami owl swooped though the portrait hole as some 4th years clambered in.

Harry unfolded it and read:

"Of course. D"

The irony of this form of message was not lost on Harry as he remembered the paper crane that the same "D" had once sent him with a crudely scribbled image depicting himself and a dragon.

Lapsing into thought Harry started once again to think through the millions of possible outcomes that the night might bring.

**(A/N: I'm having dire trouble decidinge whether to write a detailed "scene" with the boys... I think my fruity language might help to cover awkwardness. I'll see where the next chapter takes me.)**

**Reviews are awesome ;)**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

(A/N: I gave up with the Byron quotations, sorry!)

**Thanks for your reviews, they make me smile!**

"Fnnngnn ell arry" Ron groaned through a mouthful of bacon sandwich, swallowing quickly to start explaining his comment when he was met with the impetuous emerald gaze of his best friend.

"It would be him wouldn't it?" he whispered with a resigned yet confrontational sigh.

"I don't know who you mean," replied Harry who hurriedly dropped his gaze having failed to make eye contact across the room.

"Of all the bloody people, in all the bloody world who could make you happy, you bloody choose him."

Resigned to the fact his best friend had guessed already (and well, was none too pleased if his increased swearing was a sign) Harry set out to explore the conversation that would follow and hopefully convince Ron that he wasn't making a mistake.

"If I had told you last night you wouldn't have let me go would you?"

"I dunno." Ron shrugged, and although he was seething and wanted to grill Harry's sanity he went back to eating knowing that really it was unfair to keep talking as more people arrived to eat and that as an 18 year old he was an example. Oh and he didn't really want to become a living Howler.

Harry was glad that he stopped even though he had just prepared himself to explain because the seats around him filled with their dorm mates and distraction came in the form of Dean and Seamus's latest football versus Quidditch argument. These were common and the other boys knew every up and down, every criticism and praise, but they also knew it would be over soon enough and there would be no love lost between the two friends, it was just banter that filled time.

As he munched through a hefty plate of eggs Harry's mind slipped back to the night before.

He'd got to the Room of Requirement at 7:45 to find a door already there signifying that either Draco was already waiting and only Harry would be able to see this door or that there was someone else already using the room for something that didn't need hiding. He had had no idea what he would have preferred so cautiously opened the door.

Two huge arm chairs in front of a fire in a room of the palest sand stone. Not even a sofa? Harry had questioned the lack of intimacy that such chairs suggested but stopped thinking entirely when his eyes were drawn to the smouldering gaze of Draco who was sat in the chair that faced the door. However as Harry had moved to take the other chair it disappeared and he had looked over at Draco who was a bit confused but still just as aloof and comfortable (and nervous?) now sitting on a sofa. Harry concluded his thoughts must have influenced the room too and vowed to make sure he was clear about any further instructions that might be interpreted to a disadvantage.

"You wanted to see me?" His silky voice called from the corner of the sofa as Harry had perched awkwardly at the other end.

"I'm not going to lie to you Draco," Harry had proffered, a blush rising already, "I want more than just chats, more than just kisses but I want you to want more too. I cannot even start this unless it means something."

Mark one for Gryffindor stupidity. Boldness, bravery and determination had their place but Harry felt that perhaps he'd just been a bit too, well, open.

Though Harry had had no reason to worry, from there onwards had spanned their chat.

The look of amusement that emitted from Draco's surprisingly warm grey eyes dispersed the frustration created by his silence and he had reached out a hand to Harry, to shake.

What was it with Draco and replacing all the bad memories, all the symbolism?

"Harry, this will mean something" his earnest response had come.

Throughout their chat they covered mundane topics such as school work (even laughing together and the apparel of certain teachers), the half-personal half-clinical topic of friends, then the embarrassing "coming out" story that left Harry in awe of Draco's honesty and himself blushing at his own delayed response. He's been tempted to lie, tell Draco he'd always know and Hermione and Ron had supported him for years but a glance at his hand where the pale scars still lay made him admit to the brevity of his honesty.

The easy comradery that sprung up surprisingly delayed their testosterone driven reactions that Harry had feared would take hold within moments.

Actually, he reminisced, they had barely shown at all (despite Harry's earlier admittance of blatant and unerring passion) it seemed they could cope with making up for every missed day since that rebuff on their first ever train ride to school. They still skirted around each other, avoiding the one topic that they both couldn't face yet, war. Though their eagerness for companionship and closeness had shone through as Harry emphasised a point about flying while waving his arms enthusiastically and Draco had chuckled and raised a eyebrow in good humour.

Somehow they gravitated closer, no words were spoken but when Harry was raked with a yawn that struck to his core and looked at the battered Prewett watch on his wrist he was not surprised to see it reading close to 1am. What did surprise him was his and Draco's proximity, because, without prompting or a conscious decision on Harry's behalf at least, his head was in Draco's lap and his slender fingers were flicking between tracing the scar on his forehead and smoothing his hair.

It was so natural and relaxed that when he caught his eye again and the first tentative kiss was initiated he felt like he was melting.

Sitting up fully quite suddenly he had mumbled to Draco something about needing to go back to his dorm no matter how much he wanted to stay and had been silenced with another, Harry though even more heavenly, kiss.

"Mmm, but we've only just started." Draco had sighed in a mix of regret and acknowledgement.

"What have we started?" Harry had murmured as they hugged and his head lay on a warm Slytherin clad shoulder.

Draco met this question with an intense look, their eyes portraying more in that moment than words could.

"I think I want it, whatever it is." Harry had whispered as he craned once again into Draco, his smell permeating his mind leaving him drifting.

A smell that- Harry jumped with the realisation that Ron was tugging at his sleeve, a concerned frown settled on his features and a very empty Great Hall around them. So lost in his memories, and food, that everyone had moved on and he was without more than a glimpse to confirm that what he had been remembering was real.

**(A/N: It will probably be a while till I can update again… but I should post before the end of the week. No promises.)**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6.

Draco didn't know what had hit him.

During breakfast alone he had to face the knowledge that one day he had been coping, getting on with the strangely "normal" life that this post war world provided, but now he'd been thrust once again into abnormality.

He couldn't say he had ever experienced this degree of happy before; now he knew what it was to be truly happy, such an elevation after years of fear and disappointment.

He wasn't sure what was happening, who and granted him a chance, but he wanted very much for it to continue.

Damn week days and their bloody lessons - he knew that this morning was going to be a whole new degree of painful, trying not to show any outward signs when internally he was trying to control a mix of raging hormones, unrestrained fantasies and buzzing anticipation. The dramatic turns in his life had been previously so forced and _painful, _his fucking dark mark being the worst. For once it seemed like beauty had come his way, he could choose his own path and explore it, and now he had nothing to hold him back. Nothing but decency and school rules.

He craved to get a message to Potter.

The main trouble was that Draco was in turmoil trying to decide if he wanted this glorious thing to be known, whether to send his own owl with a grand declaration or try a repeat of the night before, a discrete meeting that meant more than a hurried public acknowledgement.

From what Po- Harry had said the night before he remembered that his friends, his best friends, barely knew of his orientation but surely he wouldn't keep his name from them for this long.

Especially after last night.

Draco's mind drifted once again to their last tender kiss at the door to the Room of Requirement, then, in his mind, it blurred into their first only two days previously.

Being pushed through a wall, no matter how much of a mirage it was, was not what Draco really considered a romantic encounter.

It had been so fast, hurried, as if Harry had expected, feared even, retaliation.

Who could blame him, really?

Nearly every time they'd met outside the classroom aged eleven to eighteen had ended in violence, confrontation, snide comments or insults - danger.

But this wasn't what Draco had ever wanted from the boy, it was just habit, formed from his abrupt rejection at 11, and one he intended to break.

Rivalries and bitterness caused by tradition, how Draco hated their influence. He'd been forced, by birth alone, to grow up with reactions, emotions and principles that conflicted the majority. In ignorance of alternatives he had entered the public world before school thinking everyone would hold his ideals.

It had been a pain in the arse to see that actually, the Golden Boy saviour had been the most admired and talked about and his bushy haired friend, a Muggleborn no less, beat him in class.

He remembered the pride and arrogance his father had portrayed, and instilled in him too, the sense of worth when lording it over the Weasley horde at the Quidditch World Cup.

The pain of the last few years since then was still stark and present and burning through Draco's thoughts. The Malfoy's couldn't be proud now, and Draco wondered how on earth Harry had seen anything worthy in him, anything that warranted affection.

He remembered too that there was that something tying them together from the war alone. Not their equally forced and moulded upbringings but his wand.

Harry had thrust it in his hands not long after the Battle last year.

No words, no eye contact.

A message of thanks had come by owl a mere month later. But that was all, one word. _Thanks._ Oh, and a bottle of memories specifically edited to show his own pretence of ignorance at the trio in his house, his mother's bravery and Draco's yells of "Don't kill him!" in the Room of Hidden Things.

They, perhaps they alone, were the reason neither he nor his mother were imprisoned.

These thoughts he maintained as he wandered back to the dungeons to collect his bag for Transfiguration and he decided to wait till then to contact Harry. He'd use the mirror parchment charm, a bit like the coins he'd used to contact Rosmerta back in 6th. He'd replace another of his past mistakes with a tamer positive version.

Settling into McGonagall's classroom Draco penned into his jotter after altering its properties to a piece of parchment he'd slipped onto Harry's desk.

"_Morning,_

_We both have a free after lunch we just have to get through Transfiguration and DADA__ without me pouncing. Do your friends know it's me yet?_

_It's a mirror parchment, just write."_

"_Ron guessed, haven't talked yet._

_Think it'll be fine._

_Can't wait for 2 o'clock."_

"_I know."_

"Books away class we're having a practical lesson entirely today" McGonagall's voice cut through both boys dreamy stupor rendering Harry irritated and Draco resentful.

They had no choice but to endure, loosing themselves in ideas and the power of learning.

As Defence ended and the wards they were constructing faded the class filed out and Draco watched his friends drift away as he was swathed in Harry's invisibility cloak.

Shy hands found each other and fingers intertwined as they tentatively crept into the nearest alcove.

They decided, with whispered mumbles between kisses barely possible because of their smiles, to take a walk through the grounds. Less chance of being caught, more ability to speak their minds, more trees to hide within and go about doing what no one in the world would imagine they would ever be doing.

Knowing they'd have to be parted for dinner, giving them under two hours alone, they made the most of their time together, plans of talking, laughing, getting to know each other were ripped away by the fervour that grasped them as the intoxicating presence of each other. So much for taking it slow was the consensus affirmed by the longing in cavernous eyes.

Stroking, smoothing hands released catches within robes and Harry thanked Wizarding society once again for their design. Robes over boxers had always confused Harry as a first year but as he aged he gradually understood that they were far less _restricting_ than he could previously imagine. Hands rubbed and lips traced the lines of ribs and Harry's face was pulled back towards Draco's to be joined in another fiery kiss that spoke of more than passion. Feeling each other pressed so tightly together was paradise and barely minutes into their encounter a tight hot coil of thisisrightthisisusthisismychoice burst and satiation engulfed both young men.

Spending till dinner curled together in the combined folds of their robes they broached the subject of public awareness and Harry admitted he would need some time alone with Ron and Hermione tonight to decide really how to let the school, nay the world, know. He'd found these past days of reality a torture in that he wasn't free to grin and Draco for fear of revealing them. It was agreed that they wouldn't be too obvious but wouldn't hide either, they would answer questions asked and just see how it would go.

Breaking apart under the invisibility cloak once again as they passed through the entrance hall made Harry grasp Draco's wrist and pull his ear towards his mouth. Hot breath tickled as desire coursed through their veins.

"Tonight, you pick somewhere, I'll find you. 10."

Sealed with a kiss they set forward separately to dine.

Draco wondered to himself how exactly Harry would find him, it seemed they still had plenty of secrets to share.

**A/N: Oh dear goodness guys I'm so very sorry about this huge delay. We've had family holidays and trips to London and all over and I've just not found time to write until now. I cannot promise frequent updates but as there are only a few more chapters of this left I'll see if I can get it sorted before I go to Uni on the 27th.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Good golly I'm sorry that the end of this story has taken so long to appear. I've recently moved to University and alongside now having to be in charge of all my living duties and working hard on my art course I have also gained a very lovely boyfriend. **

**Anyhoosle, I've decided to get this sorted and tied up. I hope you like it!**

Anticipation for the night to come was buzzing through his veins and a happy fuzz of warmth surrounded him like a second skin. Harry felt confident as he approached the Fat Lady, he knew the conversation he was about to have with his best friends was overdue and though he hoped they would understand eventually it was their initial response that mattered right now. That, and their ideas on how to tackle the public interest that was bound to engulf the situation.

Talking with Ron and Hermione in the "8th" years boy's dormitory turned out to go better than Harry could have imagined. Reveal his lover's identity as Malfoy was no surprise to Ron, Hermione appeared only mildly nonplussed. With their guidance they considered a public announcement to school, owling the Daily Prophet with a request to keep quiet, and many others, settling finally on continuing without any announcement would be best, but not denying the truth if questioned. Facing the storm from the outset rather than avoiding it but not asking for it to attack.

Draco on the other hand was still pondering how Harry would locate him… He chose the Prefects bathroom quite by chance as he was just meandering through the corridors and it took his fancy. Spontaneity had helped them so far, so why not now?

As long as Myrtle stayed away from them tonight he thought it would be alright. Not that Draco held anything against her, during his 6th year she had been the one person he could rely on.

Were they really going to do this? Make everything official? Harry knew he had to talk to Draco tonight, not get too lost in the moment, lay out his cards and hope they would play out right.

He glanced at the Marauder's map clutched in his left hand - Malfoy had chosen the freakin' prefects bathroom. What did this mean for the events to follow? Harry's mind was led on a tangent, not unwelcome but mildly bewildering.

Smiling with the ideas that followed Harry grabbed the cloak and made his way out of the portrait hole. Down the two floors to 5th.

During the hours that followed the bonds of intimacy were formed, all barriers stripped away by the easy flow of conversation, the adoration flowing like the bubble filled water.

Scars were traced with fervent fingers, apologies were made.

Calloused and scarred hands gripped noble, pale, _Draco's_ shoulders.

And there it was.

Unconscious cravings were manifesting in the strokes, those touches, these feelings. Random nips, uncontrollable noises and every one of them part of these two bodies. Drawn together like nifflers to precious items.

And that blissful friction driving both men crazy.

Handsfingersmouthslegs, a heady rush of sensation.

Craving that release and all the time their minds filled with the knowledge that it's Harry making me feel like this.

Those are Draco's hands in my hair.

It's Harry's taste I cannot get enough of.

It's Draco, only Draco, no one but Draco.

They were all over each other, in each other, around each other.

Tentative caresses merged into needy thrusts and because they knew, without words, this was one of the first they sped up - times for making it last would follow. The need from both men for it to be Harry, it to be Draco, was what brought them to a cresting wonder.

Sweaty, exhausted and glowing Draco reached for Harry's hand, curling his slight fingers into Harry's calloused palm.

Hugging Draco tight they lay back into a mound of towels, sated and secure.

Decisions during war flooded into Draco's mind, the spontaneity of letting Harry take his wand after claiming he didn't recognise the three Gryffindors. Stopping Crabbe and Goyle from killing Harry in the RoR. Everything so quick, a spur of the moment decision. Just like their here and now.

"We'll tell the school tomorrow?" Draco ventured, uncertain.

"No need, we'll just be us and if anyone asks we don't lie," Harry soothed.

They made plans to go flying the next day, an unusual pastime for supposed rivals but a good way to work off tension and to spend more time together.

There would be slow integration into each other's lives. This would eventually mean Christmases with the Weasley's, weekends at the Manor and spontaneous Portkeys all around the world.

The best bit? All of it was beautiful, all of it was new and all of it was theirs.

**Review it and make me smile?**


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